


Starved

by yeaka



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24746110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: A fraction of the night Martin joins Wendimoor.
Relationships: Amanda Brotzman/Martin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	Starved

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Изголодавшиеся](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28260672) by [samspiesonyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samspiesonyou/pseuds/samspiesonyou)



> Disclaimer: I don’t own Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The music of the crazy colourful critters outside Wakti’s hut is still pounding through the trees, drawn out of instruments straight from dreams or nightmares, and the Rowdy Three are _loving it_. Vogel hasn’t looked so happy in weeks. The firelight washes over his beautiful face, making his smile gleam through the mud and dirt, while Gripps and Cross match his spastic movements with equally as wild positions. Their dancing is primal, demented, _fierce_ , and it makes Amanda’s heartbeat raise along with their rhythm. It feels _so good_ to see them again. Better than a slow drag, a cold beer, a transcendent song: her boys have become _everything_ , and their reunion’s glorious. She gets high off just watch them. One of the troll-like doll-people leans over to howl like a wolf, all the boys joining in, and Amanda tosses her head back to call to the new and ridiculous moon. 

When she straightens again, the music peaks, and Martin’s marching for her, with that hungry look in his eyes that says _now_. Anticipation prickles right under Amanda’s skin. The cool open air is no match for her favourite jacket—one _they gave her_ : she’s already feverishly hot. By the time Martin reaches her, there’s no holding back. He looks like he’s going to scoop her right up and carry her over to the nearest van, but Amanda’s own legs are working just fine. She snatches up his wrist and drags him for the forest. 

They stumble over fallen logs and unfamiliar plants, far enough from the campfire to not scare the locals, but close enough that the ragged music still thrums through her veins. Martin flattens her into the trunk of a towering tree and smashes their mouths together—Amanda opens up with a ravenous moan. Her arms fly around his broad shoulders, fingers clawing at his stupid jumpsuit—he looked so much better in ripped jeans and black leather. His teeth clash with hers, tongue curling in her mouth, and she sucks it in with just as much fervour. He tastes stale, dry—she misses the ever-present tang of ash and alcohol. It’s clearly been too long since he imbibed. He drinks her down like she’ll correct that. 

She shoves one of her thighs between his legs, rocks her body into his crotch, and Martin hisses into her mouth to say _he likes that_. She can feel just how hard he is—it feels like forever since they fucked like animals in their detached car seats. Martin nips at her bottom lip and rumbles against her throat, “Permission to go to town, drummer girl.” 

Amanda bucks into him again and growls, “Eat me right up, babe.”

His hoarse chuckle is music to her ears. He kisses down her body, kneels at her feet, shoves her jeans down her legs and puts his wicked tongue to work—she’s _so_ glad to have him back.


End file.
